


In Control

by gemzies



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Angst, Demonic Possession, Gen, possibly a bit dark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-17
Updated: 2019-01-17
Packaged: 2019-10-11 13:52:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17448224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gemzies/pseuds/gemzies
Summary: The fans thought the demon was a part of Finn, something he could choose to unleash when the time was right to help him earn victories, and they loved every minute of it. But they were very, very wrong.(takes place from Summerslam 2018 through the Mixed Match Challenge quarterfinals on November 27th)





	In Control

It had been nearly a year since Finn last lost control like that. He had forgotten how draining it was, and the Irishman groaned as he tried to roll out of bed just to discover a headache worse than any migraine he’d ever had. “For God’s sake,” he muttered to himself as he sank back into his pillow. He began to rub his temples, desperately trying to chase the throbbing away before it got any worse. As he did, he heard a familiar voice in the back of his head speak up.

_“God had nothing to do with it.”_

Finn sighed. “Really?” he scoffed as he again tried to force himself to get up and start functioning.

_“What, I speak the truth.”_

“Whatever.” Finn shook his head as he headed towards the shower. The hotel he’d been in for the past few nights wasn’t anything special, but it was still much nicer than what he normally had on the road and he’d enjoyed having a shower with decent water pressure for a change. He got in and turned it up as hot as he could stand, hoping the water would help his sore muscles. His match, if you want to call it that, at Summerslam the night before hadn’t been physically demanding on him at all. In fact, for one of the only times in his career as a wrestler he’d actually squashed his opponent. The problem was, it wasn’t Finn that had been doing the work. And his entire body ached in the aftermath of what had happened the night before.

He’d screwed up and he knew it. Nearly a year of reigning himself in, being cautious and managing his emotions, all the progress he had made, thrown out the window by letting that gnat Baron Corbin get under his skin. He thought he’d gotten over the short jokes and criticism about his size over a decade ago. He’d heard it all before so many times, and proven everyone wrong over and over again in the nearly 20 years he’d been in the business. Not to mention his hard-earned physique, his muscular build giving him a bit of a hidden edge as people regularly underestimated his strength. But there was something about Corbin that bugged him in a way no one had in a long time, and that the “Constable” was in a position of power only exacerbated it. So, when Corbin came out to the ring in his God-awful vest and slacks and attacked him after his last Raw match before the pay-per-view, after months of torment and embarrassment, it got to him. Before Finn could stop it, he felt the frustration rising, felt real unbridled anger running through his veins for the first time in quite a while, and almost as soon as the feelings started he knew what was going to happen. And he hated himself for letting it.

Finn sighed again. When he’d first come to WWE he had very little self-control, and as a result the fans got much more of a glimpse at the demon than he’d really wanted. They thought that the demon was a part of him, something he could unleash when the time was right to help him earn victories, and they loved every minute of it. But they were very, very wrong. The demon Bálor was a part of him, sure, but it hadn’t always been the case and he wasn’t necessarily a welcome guest in Finn’s body. Bálor had chosen Finn to inhabit for reasons still unknown to him, and whenever he showed any signs of emotional weakness the demon would use that as an opportunity to stop just being a visitor and instead completely take over. He’d always come to afterwards feeling like he’d been in a car crash, often with no memory of what had happened or what he’d done while Bálor was in control. It drove him insane, and after finally reaching his physical and mental breaking point he’d worked hard to get to the point where he could keep the demon contained. Sure, it occasionally made him come off like a goofy smiling idiot, but to Finn it was worth it to avoid allowing the hell-spawn that had invaded his life to come back to the surface.

He finally forced himself out of the shower, and started getting ready to head to the arena. He didn’t see any point in trying to get a workout in, with how sore he already was he didn’t want to risk making it worse. He only prayed that it would get better before his match that night.

_“He had it coming, you know.”_

Finn shook his head. “Whatever you say.” He looked around the room, trying to figure out where his kick guards had ended up. To say he’d been a little out of it – and in a bit of a foul mood – when he got back to his room the night before would be an understatement, and it appeared that he had simply thrown everything he’d been carrying as soon as he’d entered. His gear bag was empty, and pieces of his normal ring attire were strewn across the somewhat tacky carpet. He laughed to himself as he noticed his other gear, _Bálor’s_ gear, was stacked up nicely on the table in the corner. Of course it was.

_“Why do you still fight me so?”_

Finn ignored him. Finally finding all of his gear, he threw it in his bag and grabbed his room key. He had things he had to do before heading to the arena for work, and this was the last thing he needed.

_“ANSWER ME.”_

Finn felt a jolt of pain run up his back as the demon yelled at him. The pain knocked him to his hands and knees, and he shook his head as he tried to catch his breath. “I didn’t ask for this,” Finn spat, slowly forcing himself back to his feet.

_“I gave you a gift. You should accept it.”_

Finn snorted. “You call this a gift? Blacking out and waking up the next day with the hangover from Hell? Not knowing who _I_ hurt or what trouble _I_ caused while _you_ were running wild? You think that’s something I enjoy, something that I wanted?” It felt good to finally let all of that out, but Finn could hear the demon laughing as he spoke. The sound brought a chill to his body.

_“Do you think I care what you want?”_

Finn didn’t respond, instead he just stared down at the floor. He knew Bálor didn’t care, the demon only cared about himself. That had been clear from the moment he’d invited himself to take up residence inside of him.

_“I chose you for a reason, boy. The sooner you stop fighting me the sooner you’ll see why.”_

Finn looked up, and found himself looking in the small mirror above the desk in his room. He barely recognized himself – to him, he looked weary and much older than his 37 years, his hair disheveled and though freshly trimmed his beard seemed unkempt. If there was any sort of light left in his blue eyes he couldn’t find it. “Not going to happen,” Finn stated, resolving yet again to make sure to keep himself in check. He wasn’t going to lose himself if he could help it.

_“Oh, I know.”_

Finn swallowed, wondering if the threatening tone he’d heard those words in was real or just his imagination. Running a hand through his brown hair, he grabbed a pair of sunglasses and threw on a hat to try and hide how horrible he felt from the rest of the world. The last thing he needed was some tabloid taking his appearance and coming up with outrageous headlines to explain it. Picking up the bag and key he dropped when he fell he left the room, desperately trying to shake the ominous feeling Bálor’s words had given him as he headed down to wait for his ride.

*****

_“What’s that?”_

“A tutu. I’ve taken up ballet,” Finn responded dryly as he started to pull his gear out of his bag.

_“Don’t get smart with me, boy. Where is the gear we normally use?”_

There was that word again. We. Every time Bálor said it Finn shuddered. It made it sound like he and the demon were working in tandem, as a team. And that was the last thing Finn wanted. “I left it at the hotel.” Finn began to change out of his street clothes, hoping that either Bálor would let it drop or that no one else would walk into the locker room to hear him talking to himself again. It had happened way too many times for his comfort.

_“You fool. You never think ahead, do you? What are you going to do for our match tonight?”_

Finn took a deep breath and sat down on the bench in front of the locker he was using for the night. “I don’t need it.” He bent over, pulling his shoes on and making sure the laces were tight enough. “This gear is fine for tonight.” He knew where this conversation was heading but kept his answers as short and straight-forward as possible to try and defuse the situation as much as he could before the inevitable explosion happened. It worked occasionally but it depended on Bálor’s mood, and Finn could feel the powder keg waiting to blow.

_“We’ve been waiting for tonight for a long time, boy. Why would I go out there wearing such plain gear for a moment like this?”_

“No.”

_“What do you mean, no?”_

Finn had caught the demon off guard. To be fair, he did speak some truth – Finn had been waiting for another shot at the Universal Championship for a long time. Two years, to be exact, since the night he had to relinquish it after dislocating his shoulder during his title match. He was stunned when Roman Reigns called him out, issuing a challenge to give him the rematch he’d never had, only 24 hours removed from winning the title himself. But Finn was ready, and he’d be damned if he was going to let Bálor ruin this for him. Or let him hurt one of the few people in the locker room who wasn’t afraid of him. “Roman is my friend,” Finn stated. “I owe him a fair fight.”

_“_ I’m _your only friend, boy. You best remember that.”_

That threatening tone from earlier had returned to the demon’s voice, and Finn shuddered as his mind filled with all the things Bálor was capable of. But he also had backed off, allowing Finn to continue preparing for his match in relative silence. For that he was grateful. He got up and started to stretch, willing himself to focus on the championship opportunity in front of him and forget about everything else for a brief second.

\---

Finn slammed the door to the empty locker room. Stopping for a brief minute to catch his breath, he clenched and released his fists as he tried to calm down. “What the fuck was that?” he demanded of the demon, trying to resist the urge to put his foot through the door of the nearest locker and instead heading towards the bathroom to splash some cold water on his face.

_“What was what?”_

The innocent act was the final straw. Finn reared back and slammed his hand into the wall next to him, putting a hole in the thin drywall before leaning back over the sink and resting his head in his hands. “Well, I sure as Hell wasn’t the one using the ropes for leverage to try and break Roman’s ribs,” he responded angrily, replaying in his mind the moment he realized Bálor had come out to play. Using the ring ropes to jump up and stomp into Roman’s chest as hard as he could, trying to get through the protector he wore to break whatever was possible, while Roman lay defenseless. He was able to do it over and over before Finn was able to regain control, and it shook him to his core.

_“I was only trying to help.”_

Finn shook his head and walked back into the locker area. He dropped himself down on the couch in the corner of the room, resting his elbows on his kneepads and again placing his head in his hands. “I didn’t need your help,” he said bitterly.

_“Then why did you lose?”_

The words stung. “I lost because of Braun Strowman. He distracted me,” Finn answered. He had the match won and he knew it, but he hesitated while climbing onto the turnbuckle for his finishing move to make sure the giant man standing at ringside wasn’t going to attack him. That split-second was enough for Roman to recover and get out of the way of the Coup De Grace, and a few seconds later he heard the ref count to three as he laid on the mat. It was his own fault, but it didn’t make the demon’s implied accusation any easier to swallow.

_“If you would have let me help, you could have avoided the distraction.”_

“Right. Help. Like that stunt you pulled on Rollins a few months ago?” Finn snickered. Bálor had decided to make his presence felt after Finn had challenged Seth Rollins to a match for the Intercontinental Championship in April by grabbing Seth and nailing him with a driving elbow to the chest into the mat, the reverse of his “1916” finisher, right after the two of them had jointly dispatched of an attacking Bo Dallas and Curtis Axel.

_“I was trying to give you an advantage.”_

Finn snickered. “You riled him up is what you did.” Though Finn had a good showing that match, Seth had come out like a ball of fire after the attack. In the end he retained his title, and yet again Finn left the ring empty handed.

There was an eerie silence that followed. Finn removed his head from his hands and instead leaned back, the back of his neck cradled by the couch cushion. There were too many different emotions swirling through his head to process. Anger, frustration, disappointment. But underneath the feelings of the moment, there was also a pulsing undercurrent of fear. Remembering all the moments the demon had come to the surface without him realizing, the aggression he would suddenly display that didn’t belong to him, he was worried that he wasn’t going to be able to maintain his hold on himself much longer. He feared what the demon would do if he finally took over.

_“You’re still afraid of me, aren’t you?”_

It wasn’t a question so much as it was a statement, the demon finally acknowledging Finn’s feelings towards him. But it wasn’t entirely accurate. “I’m not afraid of you, Bálor,” he replied defiantly. “But I will admit that I am scared to think of what you would do if I let you loose.”

_“You need to trust me, boy. I would never hurt the body I chose.”_

Finn’s hand began throbbing as the pain from being put through the wall set in. Apparently, he could do a pretty good job of hurting himself without Bálor’s help. “It’s not _me_ I’m worried about.”

*****

It had been a few months since Bálor had last shown up during a match. Finn was still wary, but he was also grateful. Things may not have been going quite the way he would have wanted, and he’d be the first to admit it. However, despite the beatings he’d been taking he took pride in it all being on his own merit and not because of the supernatural power inhabiting his body. He had been getting a decent number of wins, even if some were by disqualification, and he hoped that would help build some semblance of momentum as 2018 began to draw to a close. He and his partner, Bayley, had also managed to get to the playoffs of the Mixed Match Challenge, that coveted #30 entry in the Royal Rumble one of the prizes for the winner, getting him yet another step closer to another title shot.

He looked again at the bracket for the that night’s quarterfinals and grimaced. They were scheduled to face the team of Mickie James and Bobby Lashley, and while it could have been worse it was not necessarily an ideal scenario. Bobby Lashley and his manager, Lio Rush, had been making his life a living Hell over the past few weeks. Lashley seemed to enjoy throwing his weight around, and to be fair he would be an intimidating figure to most. Well over six feet tall and built like a brick house, probably a good 70 pounds heavier than Finn and solid muscle. He had also seemingly lost any and all regard for anyone’s health and safety other than that of Rush and James. Lio Rush was like a little bug always hovering around Lashley, Finn himself towered over Rush in a way he rarely did with fellow competitors, but he was also quick as lightening and someone Finn knew couldn’t be taken lightly. Especially when paired with the larger Lashley – they seemed to bring out an aggressive side of each other no one had realized was there for the longest time.

Thus far, Finn had managed to escape his encounters with Lashley and Rush relatively unharmed except for his pride, swallowing the humiliation after they beat him senseless and slapped him about in the ring, managing to still keep Bálor contained despite how upset he’d been once he was back in the locker room. But he also knew he was lucky – he’d watched from the sidelines as Lashley had put both Sami Zayn and Kevin Owens on the shelf due to injury in the months since Money In The Bank, and he had no desire to join them.

_“They’ll embarrass you again.”_

Finn sighed. “Thanks for the vote of confidence,” he snapped back, taking a drink of his water bottle before heading out of the locker room. He had about 20 minutes before Smackdown was scheduled to end, and Mixed Match Challenge would be starting for the night. He needed to find Bayley and make sure they were both on the same page.

_“I speak the truth.”_

He shook his head, clearly annoyed. That seemed to be Bálor’s favorite response to anything Finn said, especially when he would question the demon. “I’d much rather you not speak at all, thanks,” he muttered flatly, seeing Bayley come bouncing towards him with her arms open for a hug.

“Finn! You ready?” she chirped after the hug ended, pulling the side ponytail her brown hair was thrown into a little tighter.

It was almost impossible not to smile around Bayley. She carried herself with such a positive energy, from the giant smile on her face to the crazy colors adorning her ring gear and boots, that even the worst moods would lighten when she came around. Finn hoped he couldn’t see everything that was hiding behind that smile this time though. “Ready as I’m going to get! How much time do we have?”

He saw a brief flash of concern roll through her dark eyes, but to his eternal thanks it passed quickly. She grabbed his arm and practically dragged him towards the gorilla position, rambling excitedly about some of the ideas and thoughts she had going into their match, and he laughed despite himself at her enthusiasm.

\---

Finn slowly began to pull himself up off the floor, using the barricade to help steady himself. He’d been put through the ringer by Lashley again and had needed a few minutes to catch his breath after tagging in Bayley. Bayley was on fire, having found Mickie’s number almost as soon as she got into the match, and Finn watched with a sense of pride as Mickie had to roll out of the ring to gather herself after Bayley’s onslaught. He watched as Bayley started jumping in place, hands up to the referee innocently when he warned her, and then she took off towards the ropes behind her to gain momentum for some sort of aerial attack.

Bayley hit the ropes behind her, and then hit the mat face-first with a sickening thud as Lio Rush reached out and pulled her legs out from under her. The referee never saw it. Bayley just laid there, eyes glassy and possibly knocked for a loop by the impact. Finn felt his blood boil as he forced himself up and into the ring, immediately getting in the ref’s face demanding some sort of retribution towards the other team.

As the referee tried to usher him back out of the ring, he saw Lashley climbing back in out of the corner of his eye. Warmth began swirling in his stomach, slowly spreading through his limbs as his vision began to grow hazy around the edges. He could hear a heartbeat in his ears, feeling his face flush as the flame inside him spread to his head. But it wasn’t his heartbeat. _No, please, not now_ , he thought desperately, grabbing the ropes to try and step out of the ring. At that moment Lashley charged at him, and the haze in his sight turned red as he felt himself grabbing the larger man and tossing him out of the ring as if he were nothing.

_Bálor growled as he turned around to find Rush behind him, forcefully grabbing the smaller man by the collar. His eyes flashed daggers, the threat contained in the eerily clouded blue causing Rush to forego any thoughts of defense and instead start desperately trying to squirm out of his grasp. In one quick motion, Bálor tossed him out through the second rope, not caring how or where the man landed. He didn’t deserve any caution after what he did, what’d he and the other man had done to the body he’d chosen over the past few weeks. He deserved every ounce of pain Bálor could administer, and Bálor was going to enjoy delivering what he could get away with._

_The Demon looked to ringside and saw that Lashley had helped Rush land on his feet. Rage flowed through Bálor’s veins as his breath quickened, and he ran off the ropes and leapt over the top, crashing down on the two men and causing them both to hit the thinly padded floor hard enough to knock the wind out of them. He rolled through and allowed himself a yell as he stood, asserting his dominance along with a sense of pleasure that he’d finally been able to exact some measure of revenge against the men laid out in front of him. He noticed Bayley getting to her feet, and began to withdraw back into Finn as she slammed Mickie James into the mat for the win._

\---

Finn’s face fell as he entered his hotel room, grateful to no longer have to keep the plastic smile he’d had since the 3-count ended plastered across his lips. He and Bayley had won the match, earned a spot in the semi-finals, and he should have been happy at being that much closer to winning it all. But happy was the furthest thing from what he was feeling after the way things had played out during the match.

He threw his bag over towards his suitcase and allowed himself to fall backwards onto the bed with a heavy sigh. He covered his eyes with an arm, the other resting on his stomach, and just let himself lay there somewhat numbly as the events of the evening replayed themselves in his mind.

_“What’s wrong, boy?”_

Finn shook his head. Now was not the time for Bálor to start playing therapist. “Nothing.” The word had some unintentional bite to it, but at that point he didn’t care. He was tired. Tired of fighting, not just in the ring but in his own body, constantly fighting to keep himself _him_.

_“You lie.”_

He shrugged in response. One of the worst things about this whole situation was the fact that he was never truly alone. Right now, he wanted nothing more in the world than to be left by himself with his thoughts.

_“You and the girl won tonight. You should be happy.”_

Finn scoffed. “I am happy. Yup. Absolutely fucking thrilled,” he deadpanned, moving his arm from his eyes and placing both arms under his head. A long silence followed, Finn focusing on his breathing and trying to keep himself together. The last thing he wanted is to give Bálor the satisfaction of watching him cry because of him. Again.

_“You’re upset with me again.”_

The words were flat, but at the same time carried an urgency Finn couldn’t understand. He swallowed hard, continuing to stare at the ceiling, before giving in to the pressure he was feeling from the entity inside him. His voice was nothing but a whisper when he finally spoke. “You could have killed him.”

Bálor didn’t respond, but Finn didn’t care. His mind was racing, thinking of all of the different ways things could have played out when the demon had taken over that night. “Had Lashley not been there to keep him on his feet, he could have landed on his head, or on his neck. He could have been killed or paralyzed,” Finn continued, his anxiety level rising. “And it would have been MY FAULT.” He damn near yelled the last words, everything boiling over yet again. He was so sick of this cycle, but no matter what he did nothing ever seemed to stop it.

_“I didn’t kill him though, did I?”_

A bolt of fear raced through Finn’s body, replacing the anxiety with panic. Bálor’s voice had been cold and uncaring, and while Finn knew he enjoyed causing pain he was still caught off-guard by his reaction to possibly causing death.

_“Besides, the little rodent would have deserved it.”_

“No one deserves to die,” Finn whispered, his body now trembling with emotion despite his best attempts to keep himself reigned in. He again began to feel the pit in his stomach growing warm, and he shot up off the bed violently. He stumbled over to the window, gripping the sill as he laid his forehead against the cool glass. “Stop,” he demanded, closing his eyes and pushing back with every ounce of energy he had.

_“Stop fighting me.”_

The demon continued to swirl inside him, the heat slowly beginning to radiate through his body as Finn continued trying to force it down. “Never,” he spat, his breath coming hard. His grip on the window sill tightened until his knuckles were white, a shiver running down his spine as Bálor growled his discontent.

_“You’ve been wasting both of our time for far too long, boy.”_

A searing pain filled Finn’s body, and he let go of the window sill and collapsed on the floor in a heap. He instinctively curled into a ball, hands grabbing at his now throbbing head. “No,” he forced out once more, a second attack causing him to cry out as he continued trying to keep Bálor at bay.

_“I chose you for a reason. I_ own _you.”_

He could tell Bálor was growing angrier and angrier, his voice harsh as he spat the words. “Never,” Finn replied again, trying to force himself up to his hands and knees. Another wave of pain caused his vision to go black for a second, and he fell back to the ground as his body arched in agony. But Finn was still defiant. “You will never own me.” There was no way he would give up now no matter what Hell the demon inflicted on him. He tried to steel himself again, reaching deep inside for whatever was left in him. “I WILL NOT GIVE YOU CONTROL,” he screamed, pushing against the warmth in his gut with everything he had.

The pain stopped, and he felt the rising heat slowly fade from his body. Finn laid there on the floor in exhaustion, not able to find the strength to so much as move a finger at that point. His body was wet with sweat from his efforts, and he panted as he tried to catch his breath. It wasn’t their first battle, and he knew it was far from the last, but at least for now he had come out on top. He allowed himself to relax a little in his victory, his breath slowly steadying as he began to calm down. His momentary peace was soon shattered by Bálor’s laughter, and the chill that ran down his spine at the sound.

_“My dear boy. Who’s to say you ever had control in the first place?"_

**Author's Note:**

> I promise that not all of my stories involve Summerslam, but the demon appearing out of nowhere just provided way too much creative fodder.
> 
> I got this idea back in September, but kept putting it off to work on other things. I'm glad to have finally finished it - thank you for reading!


End file.
